


Mass Effect Minis

by fourthage



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourthage/pseuds/fourthage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minifills from the kinkmeme, and tumblr prompt fics. Mostly FemShep/Garrus, but there's a few other pairings too.  Just check the tags.  </p><p>If you're looking for the elcor friendship fic, check chapter 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Long Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Misfire fill. The misplaced comment read: "Credit where it's due - I've never liked phone sex stories until this one. :D"

It had taken Shepard weeks to smuggle in the parts to hook up an unauthorized comm link. It took another week to hack into a non-Alliance communications system that reached Palaven, and another two days before she and Garrus managed to be online at the same time.

He had just finished telling her what he was going to do when Alliance brass finally got their heads out of their collective asses and released her, and she was just starting to tell him exactly what was keeping her warm in her cold, turian-less bed, when she was interrupted by an embarrassed cough behind her. She whipped around, shutting down the link and glaring at an uncomfortable James Vega.

"Something I can help you with, soldier?"

"You aren't allowed to have that, commander."

Shepard had a stare that could make a krogan back down. She was using it on Vega now. "I'm allowed limited personal communication."

"On Earth. Ma'am."

"Tell you what, Vega. You let me have this one conversation, and I won't tell anyone about the more interesting extranet searches under your name that I found when I was patching my signal in."

She watched as Vega did a quick internal review of his searches and grimaced.

"I'll be back in an hour, commander."

Shepard grinned and pulled up the link again, hoping Garrus hadn't signed off when she cut off so abruptly. He responded immediately to her ping.

//Trouble?

"This just turned into a one-time only, limited duration offer."

//How limited?

"An hour."

//Wouldn't be the first time we've had a deadline.

"Wasting time, Vakarian."

//It's your move.

Shepard smiled, and proceeded to put the next hour to very good use.


	2. It's Always Henry Lawson's Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:   
> To the fine and talented authors of this wonderful Kink Meme, I present a challenge:
> 
> http://rule34.paheal.net/post/view/919157#search=Mass_effect (NSFW, seriously)
> 
> Write a fill on the topic of: Just what the fuck is going on here?
> 
> (and an author's note: Miranda's art snobbery is not my own.)

"Miranda?"

Shepard stood in the doorway of Miranda's office, looking supremely uncomfortable. Interesting.

"What can I do for you, Commander?" Miranda saved her latest report to the Illusive Man and folded her hands on her desk to indicate that she was giving her full attention. If anything, that made Shepard look even more uncomfortable. Very interesting.

"You know that Joker has a rather extensive collection of pictures and vids for, uh, private use."

"I am aware, yes. It hasn't affected his ability to pilot the Normandy, so it didn't seem relevant."

Shepard opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking to the ceiling as if praying for guidance. She shrugged and shoved a datapad at Miranda. "First picture," she said.

Miranda raised her eyebrows. Nothing in her files indicated that Shepard was prudish, just the opposite, in fact. She tapped the image file.

Her own face looked up at her, with a vacuous expression that had certainly never been on Miranda's face. Her doppelganger was naked. There were also wings. They seemed to be discharging electricity. And there were explosions and - was that 20th century audio equipment? The composition of the piece was a mess, with no discernible theme or color scheme. Miranda sneered.

"Uh, Miranda?" Shepard was looking at her worriedly.

Miranda sighed and put the datapad to one side. "I did tell you I wasn't my father's first attempt at a legacy."


	3. Drunken Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt here: http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/5405.html?thread=22786589#t22786589

“Shepard!”

Shepard stopped just inside her door. She'd told Garrus he was welcome in her cabin anytime, whether she was there or not, but he hadn't taken her up on the offer. Until now. And he'd found the turian brandy she'd stashed away under her desk, by the smell of things.

“Shepard!” Garrus repeated as he tripped up the step from the living area and threw his arms around her. She staggered a little under his weight as he leaned heavily against her.

“Garrus,” she said back. “Got started without me, I see.”

He nuzzled her neck in response. “Mmm. You smell so good.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Really good. I love the way you smell.”

“I like the way you smell, too, Garrus.”

He inhaled deeply, then sputtered as some of her hair got in his mouth. Shepard tried not to laugh. He got himself sorted and draped his arms over her again.

“Love your hair too. S'really nice.” He brought a hand up and patted her head gently. She did laugh then and untangled herself.

“Okay, flatterer. Why don't we take this to the couch?”

“Not just your hair,” he said, following her. “All of you.”

She sat and patted the seat next to her. “All of me what?”

Garrus looked at the couch like it was a particularly difficult set of algorithms and carefully lowered himself down. Then he looked at her and frowned. Before she could ask what was wrong, he reached over and pulled her into his lap. “Love all of you,” he rumbled into her shoulder.

“I can't believe you had to get drunk to tell me that,” Shepard said, amused. Garrus made a noise that sounded like agreement. She kissed his forehead, right where it met the beginning of his fringe. “Love you, too.”

“No,” he said. Shepard blinked, taken aback. He took one of her hands and put it where she had kissed. “Hands.”

“What?”

“To polish my fringe. And I'll, uh, smooth your hair.”

“Now?”

“Next time.” He buried his face in her shoulder again. “S'what we do.”

“Turian couples?”

“Yeah.”

Shepard ran her hand along his fringe, feeling the slight bumps and rough patches. “Sounds good. I'll give you the shiniest fringe in Citadel space.”

“I really love your hands.”

“Do you now.”

He pulled her hand back down and laced his three fingers through her five. “Especially all your fingers.”

“I think I'm wearing too many clothes for this conversation,” Shepard said. “Why don't you do something about that?”

And that was the wonderful thing about Garrus, Shepard thought sometime later, flushed and sated. When he did, he did thoroughly.


	4. Under the Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt here: http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/5736.html?thread=24217704#t24217704

"Vega, what the hell are you doing?"

James Vega's feet jerked in surprise, and the whole tree quivered as he tried to extract himself. "Commander! You, uh, weren't supposed to be back yet."

"Still waiting, lieutenant."

"This wasn't my idea."

Shepard folded his arms and just looked at James, who still had a string of lights tangled around his wrist and was trying to find the end to untangle himself.

James sighed, "I lost the hand of Skyllian Five."

"And that leads to you putting up Christmas decorations in my cabin because?"

"I was out of credits?"

"And the lack of pants?"

"I was almost out of clothes too."

Shepard tried to maintain his commander face, he really did, but keeping a straight face when confronted with a half-naked James Vega who had tinsel clinging to his hair was a bit much to ask of any man.

"Almost is not good enough, soldier," Shepard managed, just before James could take real offense at the laughter. "But since you're already under my tree, I don't mind finishing the unwrapping."

The part of James that did not need help on this point signalled its agreement. His mouth said, "But what about the lights?"

"Vega, I say this with all intended holiday cheer: fuck the lights, shut up, and roll over."

"Yes, sir."

And a merry time was had by all.


	5. Ship Geeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another misfire fill  
> http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/5736.html?thread=25864296#t25864296

"You're kidding! That run was limited to just a hundred. I couldn't even get on the waiting list."

"Mint in package. Or it was at least. It's back in my apartment in Vancouver."

"Damn Reapers."

"Damn Reapers."

Garrus poked his head in the lounge in time to see Shepard and Cortez toss back drinks simultaneously.

"But this," Cortez picked up something from the bar. "This is amazing. I didn't think the schematics of a geth dreadnaught were known well enough for a model."

"They're not," Shepard said. "But I had an inside source and got it custom-made."

Cortez turned it over in his hands. “The detail on this is incredible. Is that the propulsion system?”

“Yeah, bit unusual placement, but they don't have to worry about radiation leaks the way we do.”

“Wow. I'd love to see the rest of your collection.”

Shepard burst out laughing. “You know,” she said, wiping her eyes, “I think you're the first person who's said that to me and didn't mean it as a euphemism.”

Cortez laughed too, and Garrus withdrew, shaking his head. Trust Shepard to find the one person on the ship who shared her ridiculous obsession with tiny ships.


	6. Sweet, Hot Chocolate Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/6066.html?thread=26673586#t26673586

"Coffee," Jacob said with a grimace.

"As in, like she liked her coffee? Ugh." Shepard thought for a moment. "Caramel and chocolate. By the same guy even."

Jacob gave her an appraising once over. "Milk chocolate maybe."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Nice. So what does that make you? 90% cacao?"

He grinned, and flexed a little, muscles pressing enticingly against the thin fabric of his shirt. "You know it."

She smirked and licked her lips deliberately. "I seem to recall there being more planned for tonight than just talk." She lifted a leg and ran her foot along the outside of Jacob's calf. 

He put down his beer. "All right, I can take a hint, Shepard." He pulled off his shirt without preamble and shucked it in the corner. Shepard raised an eyebrow, but she crooked a finger to make him come closer. 

Jacob grabbed her hand and pulled her up off the couch instead. He looked deep into her eyes, and she felt a sharp stab of panic, because this was supposed to be _casual_ , dammit. "Shepard," he said, his voice low and intent in a way that did nothing for her sudden nerves. "Enough of this talk, let us make sweet, hot chocolate love!"

Shepard gaped at him, then his face cracked and he started laughing. She joined him a second later, and they were still laughing as they fell on to the bed.

She was still chuckling when they hit the Collector home base, and she promised herself that if they all got through this, she was going to go back for seconds.


	7. Piledriver Waltz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fic from tumblr. Technically inspired by the song "Piledriver Waltz", but only in a sideways roundabout fashion.
> 
> http://fourth-age.tumblr.com/post/51936252625/how-about-a-song-prompt-try-piledriver-waltz-on-for

Tali came to see her the day before the last ship left for quarian space. Shepard was well enough to be awake most of the day, but was still confined to bed and bored out of her mind.

“I've got just the thing,” Tali said, taking a seat beside the bed. She put a small transmitter on the bed's attached tray and punched in a few things on her omnitool. The vidscreen on the wall started playing a melancholic orchestral piece while the camera swooped around a green planet. Shots of various asari turning and posing faded in and out before the title screen appeared, blue and sparkling. 

“Tali,” Shepard said. “You did not bring me an asari soap opera.”

“Don't laugh,” Tali said. “It's won every award there is. And it's been on for _centuries_. You'll never run out of episodes!” Shepard gave her a skeptical look. “Just try it,” Tali pleaded. “It will give us something to keep in touch about.”

Shepard sighed. “Can't be worse than the guy with the puppet who came around last week.” 

Tali perked up and drew her chair closer. “I didn't start you at the beginning. This is when Ralea gets introduced. She's the pure-blooded half-sister of Matriarch Janis who was lost in a shuttle crash over Selvos fifty years ago. Everyone thought she was dead, but at the end of the last episode she crashed Janis's daughter's bonding ceremony and . . .”

Despite herself, Shepard smiled. There were definitely worse ways to pass the morning than listening to Tali's brand of exhaustively detailed enthusiasm. She got herself more comfortable against the pillows and settled in for the long haul.

Several hours later found them in the middle of a heated discussion of the latest plot twist.

“Of course he was in love with her,” Tali said. “Did you see how fast his eyes were blinking when she told him goodbye?”

Shepard caught movement by the door and waved Garrus in without pausing. “He was in love with the clone. He didn't have time to fall in love with her.”

“Salarians do everything faster,” Tali said.

“Is that _Lies of Eternity_?” Garrus interrupted.

Shepard stopped. “You watch this?” she asked.

“My parents used to. When Dad was away, they'd schedule a vidlink and watch it together.”

“Your father watches _Lies of Eternity_ ,” Shepard said flatly.

Tali sighed. “That's actually kind of sweet.”

Garrus got a funny look on his face, probably from the words “father” and “sweet” being used in the same context. “Not anymore. Not since Mom, well.”

“So, no using the revelation about the elcor bondmate as an icebreaker. Got it.” Shepard said.

“Please don't,” he told Shepard. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, “Which one?”

“Don't spoil her!” Tali said.

Shepard laughed. “Looks like we'll both be keeping in touch.”

Garrus groaned and dropped his head to his hands.


	8. Throwing Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fic for [theladyw](http://theladyw.tumblr.com/), who asked for Grunt discovering that he liked making ceramics.

“I want to make this,” Grunt said, shoving the datapad in front of the instructor's face. Her eyes moved from the picture of an elaborate vase to his face, then back again.

“This is a beginner's class,” Tira started. “I don't think-”

“This one.” Grunt tapped his finger against the pad for emphasis.

He wasn't the first krogan the asari had taught. It was no use arguing. They usually got frustrated after a few classes and left on their own. Tira shrugged, and set him up with a wheel.

The first session was a disaster. Krogan did nothing by halves, and Grunt insisted on spinning the wheel at its highest setting. There was more clay on him than in front of him by the end, and the remainder could only be called a bowl under the most generous of definitions.

“It's too tiny,” he said. He looked at the human sitting next to him. “Yours is bigger. How did you do that?”

The human gave him a dirty look. The splatter from Grunt's efforts had hit him too. “I went slow.”

Grunt set the wheel turning again at a slower speed. He watched it for a few moments, a dissatisfied look on his face.

“Just smash it down already. You can make another mess tomorrow.” The human reached over, hand raised, and jumped when Grunt caught his wrist.

“No.”

Tira hurried over. “Is there a problem?”

“Only if he touches my stuff.”

The human pulled his arm back. “I wasn't serious,” he muttered. Grunt decided anyone too cowardly to stand by their actions wasn't worth his time, and presented his bowl to Tira for firing.

The second and third sessions were little better. Grunt was convinced to slow his wheel, but shaping the clay into a recognizable form still eluded him. Tira was surprised he showed up to the fourth session, and intercepted him on his way to his seat.

“Perhaps you would like to try handbuilding?” she suggested, leading him a table instead. She demonstrated how to soften the clay, and Grunt's eyes lit up.

“You beat it into submission and then it does what you want?” His mouth split into a toothy grin. “This is a krogan art after all!”

Tira gave him a weak smile. “Just don't break the table, please,” she said, as he began to pummel his block of clay. The other students watched Grunt with varying degrees of horrified fascination, and she went quickly to redirect their interest. After a bit, Grunt's blows died down. His body blocked his work from the room at large, but since he was quiet, he remained uninterrupted until the end of the class.

“How are you—oh!” Tira cut off when she saw just what Grunt had been making. The finishing of the vase was still rough, but its lines were strong and elegant. “That's very good,” she said in some surprise.

“I like it,” Grunt said, and then, to Tira's horror, brought his fist down on top of it.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, aghast.

“One beating wasn't enough,” Grunt said. “I will fight it until I have a worthy vessel.”

“Oh,” Tira said. “Wonderful.”


	9. Theories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fic for [Tarysande](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tarysande), who prompted: Something Mass Effect? Something with Mordin? Or Kasumi? (I don't know, Mordin was sneaky salarian STG; it seems like if anyone could catch Kasumi up to mischief it might be him?)

His mug was not as he had left it. Mordin didn't notice at first. It was only when he reached over in the middle of typing and his fingers hit the handle instead of the side of the cup that he realized it had been turned. He paused, considering the possibilities. Miranda might attempt surveillance again, but would not need to disturb workspace items. Shepard unusually respectful of personal space for a human. Garrus, Jacob, both protective of own work areas, would inform him if they disturbed his. Grunt—Mordin sniffed derisively—would certainly notice if krogan had been in area. Other Cerberus personnel too wary of experiments to enter laboratory. Kasumi . . . yes, most likely culprit.

Mordin checked his experiments and found them untampered with. A similar check of his computer found an unobtrusive program, hidden in the automatic backup functions, that made an extra copy of his work. No doubt lucrative in some markets, but Kasumi specialized in physical theft. Hacking abilities a means to an end, not an end in themselves. Mordin allowed himself a small smile. Personal firewalls prevented access over ship's intranet, Kasumi forced to resort to physical intrusion to install program, would need second incursion to retrieve information. Good to know skill set was still sharp. 

Humming to himself, Mordin made a copy of the program for further study and possible personal use, then set about overwriting its data with several academic papers on the geometry of the exoskeletons of aquatic invertebrates. That done, he made a mental note to check its status regularly, and put the matter out of his mind. 

The program disappeared in the aftermath of the mission to the Collector ship. The ground team returned with a number of injuries, and Mordin spent some time in the medbay assisting Dr. Chakwas with their treatment. It was the perfect opportunity for another visit, and Mordin noted the program's absence with no small amount of satisfaction. Would be interesting to see how Kasumi responded.

As the days went by with no further attempts at his system, Mordin began to be disappointed. A thief of her caliber was too persistent to give up after one setback, but no other satisfactory explanation existed. Pity. Light distraction would have been welcome at present. Recent communications about former colleague most distressing. Shepard's aid would be required. He sent the necessary request, and resumed his study of the Collector samples.

\- - -

Mission parameters incorrect. Maelon's actions a betrayal of every ethical precept. Mordin felt tired, every one of his thirty-odd years suddenly heavy. Current mission with Shepard important, but perhaps judgment was no longer reliable. Maybe it was time to retire, work on personal projects.

A new addition waited for him when he entered his lab. Mordin blinked rapidly. It was a day to be wrong about more than just Maelon. In the middle of the center table sat a large conch shell, turned on its side to display the smooth pink and white interior. He picked it up. Heavy, rough exterior, well-defined siphonal canal, strongly flared outer edge. Clearly a mature specimen. Mordin set it back on the table gently. Specimen also beautiful. Study would be uncomplicated by messy ethical questions or regrets.

Regrets, no. But new data acquired. Old solution no longer viable. Mordin weighed his options and nodded his head. Decision made then. One last project. And after, there would be time for seashells.


	10. A Short Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley stops by Shepard's hospital room before shipping out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From theladyw's prompt: — exploding cotton candy — helping one’s love interest relax while they heal from a broken foot — playing with stuffed animals with nieces/nephews — sitting calmly, holding your loved one while those around you celebrate — good things —

“Thought you'd be sick of this place,” Ashley said from the door of the hospital room.  
  
Shepard gave her a tired smile.  “I get released tomorrow.”  She wriggled so she was sitting up straighter against the pillows.  “It's not a bad break, but they wanted to make sure my implants didn't overcompensate again.”  
  
“So there is a downside to being superhuman,” Ashley said.  She took a seat by the bed and looked around.  “No Garrus?”  
  
There was a shuffling from the opposite side of the bed, and a three-fingered hand appeared and waved.  “Hey, Ash.”  
  
Ashley raised an eyebrow at Shepard, who shook her head.  “The incline function stutters halfway up,” she said.  “Take a wild guess.”  
  
“Garrus,” Ashley said, trying very hard not to laugh.  “Are you _calibrating_ her bed?”  
  
The muttered response was too low for her to catch, but Shepard dropped her far hand over the bed's edge with a smile that made Ashley a bit envious.    
  
“So,” Shepard said.  “You have that look in your eye.  Finally got your orders?”  
  
“Yeah.  Can't tell you where.”  
  
“Alliance or Council?”  
  
“Council.  Though Hackett found out somehow and added a few things to my orders.”  Ashley shifted in her seat.  “Seeing you before I left was one of them.”  
  
“Ah,” Shepard said.  “And were you supposed to tell me that?”  
  
“Probably not.”  
  
Shepard waited.  And because it was Shepard, Ashley didn't mince words.  
  
“ _Are_ you coming back?  He didn't say so outright, but he thinks you hurt yourself on purpose to avoid the issue.”  
  
That made Garrus's head rise over the edge of the bed.  “I can guarantee it wasn't.”  
  
Shepard wasn't one for blushing, but her “ _Please_ don't,” held enough embarrassment that Ashley rolled her eyes.  
  
“Newlyweds,” she said, and Shepard laughed at the disgust in her voice.

“Sorry, Ash.  I don't have an answer for you.  I'm-” she stopped and looked down at her hands.  “I'm _tired_.  Maybe I won't be eventually, but I think I've earned some time to think about it.”  
  
Ashley thought of her grandfather, forced out on someone else's terms, and her father, who loved the job more than it loved him.  “I get it.  I can't say I expected you to retire before I did, but I get it.”  
  
“Told you she would,” Garrus said.  
  
“But you'll let me know if you change your mind?  Being the only human Spectre isn't as much fun as you made it look.”  
  
Shepard grinned.  “I promise, you'll be the first to know.”


	11. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fic. [Servantofclio](http://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio) asked for Garrus and Wrex being best buddies.

Garrus gave credit where it was due.  Krogans knew how to throw a party.  Grunt was down in the thick of things, full of ryncol and pride, and Shepard, crazy human that she was, had waded right in after him.  Garrus wasn't willing to push the clan's tolerance of a turian in their midst and stayed on the dais with Wrex, trading boasts and casual insults.  
  
It was almost nostalgic.  
  
A cheer went up from below.  Grunt pulled Shepard up to stand next to him and she gamely started acting the part of the thresher maw as he recounted his rite.  Wrex gave one of his short laughs, which could mean anything from _I'm going to break both of your arms_ to _This food is almost edible_ , but in this case Garrus was fairly sure indicated actual amusement.  
  
“They'll be talking about this for years,” Wrex said.  
  
“Jealous we beat your record?”  
  
“Ha!”  Wrex fixed him with a glint in his eye.  “My krantt was dead by the time the maw showed up.”  
  
“That's better?”  
  
“Grunt inspired others to fight with him.  I proved they would fight to the death with me.”  
  
And wasn't _that_ the difference between krogan and the rest of the galaxy in a nutshell.  “No offense, but I'll take Grunt over you any day.”  
  
“You trying to hurt my feelings?”  
  
Garrus shook his head.  “Don't say that too loudly.  Wouldn't want your clan to think you'd gone soft.”  
  
Wrex gave him a friendly punch on the arm.  Garrus's visor lit up with warnings.    
  
The cheers from below increased as Grunt's tale concluded and Shepard fell over dramatically.  Wrex gave a small grunt and shook his head.  “And with a human and turian in his krantt.  Good reminder that not all changes are bad.”  
  
That was more Shepard than anything.  Then a thought struck him.  “Wait, this doesn't make me an honorary krogan, does it?”  
  
“In your dreams, Vakarian.”


	12. With Enthusiasm: How to Befriend an Elcor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fic. [Fistfulofgammarays](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays/pseuds/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays) asked for someone making friends with an elcor.

“And then—and then he said I needed a receipt.  I don't have a receipt!  He didn't give me one!”  The human, already on his third drink, made a wet whuffling noise.  Pasha looked around, but there was no one else he could be talking to.  
  
“Blandly: did you tell the shopkeeper that?” she asked.  
  
The man blinked at her “Blandly?  What do you mean 'blandly'?  You making fun of me?”  
  
“Amused: no.”  
  
“Ha!”  He pointed at her, and under the alcohol she caught the scent of frustration and despair.    
  
The latter made her say, “With renewed effort at sincerity: no.  It sounds like you had a trying day.”  
  
“Yeah.”  The man stared glumly at his drink.  “William,” he said.  
  
“Polite inquiry: what?”  
  
“My name.  William.  You're the first person to be nice to me all day.”  
  
“Politely: and I am Pasha.  Tentatively: perhaps you have had enough to drink?”  
  
“Yeah, maybe.”  He lapsed into silence, and Pasha wondered if it would be rude to leave.  “Hey,” he said.  “Hey.  We should dance.  Floor's right there.”  
  
“Awkwardly: I do not--”  
  
“Come on, everybody dances.”  And it should not have been possible for someone a fifth of her size to herd her on to the dance floor, but William somehow managed.  The other patrons looked askance at her, and she tried to shuffle back off the floor, but was blocked again by the human.  Hoping if she made an effort he'd let her go, Pasha swayed as best she could to the beat.  She couldn't dance the way the other species on the floor were.  The music was faster than she liked, with none of the slow, deep bass notes she was used to.  
  
A turian bumped into her flank and scowled at her.  “If you're not going to dance, get off the floor,” he said.  
  
“Apologetically: yes, I'm sorry.”  
  
“Hey!”  William glared at the turian.  “He can dance if he wants to.  You can dance,” he said to Pasha.  “Is that really how you dance?”  
  
“With embarrassed gratitude: thank you, no.  And I am female.”  It was a common mistake among non-elcor.  
  
“No shit?  Uh, was I supposed to be able to tell?”    
  
Although most Citadel races were not quite so blunt about their inability to distinguish between the sexes.  It made Pasha want to be blunt back.  “Slyly: not when I have my pants on.”  
  
The man stared at her for a good pause, long enough that Pasha began to think she'd offended him, and then laughed so hard he cried.  “You're okay,” he said.  “Wanna show me how you really dance?”  
  
It cracked the floor and got them thrown out, but it was the most fun she'd had in ages.


	13. Something Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday prompt from ellelalee, who gave me "Blue, Shepard and Vakarian."

“Did we miss it?” Joker poked his head into the hospital room, leaning on EDI’s arm. Tali stood by the head of Shepard’s bed, fussing with her hair, while Garrus watched, amused. 

“Still waiting on the official,” Shepard said. “The others are in the waiting area next door.”

“Great. I’ll just borrow Garrus for a minute. Have to fill him in on human wedding customs, right?”

Shepard gave him a suspicious look, but let them go without protest.

“We were just going to do the standard ceremony,” Garrus said, as they entered waiting area. Ashley and Liara looked up from where they had their heads together. 

“Not those customs. These are for luck.” Joker sat in one of the chairs and gave Garrus a once over. “New civvies?”

Garrus looked down at himself. “No, just my usual ones.”

“I thought you had to replace your shirt.”

“I did, but it’s the same design.”

“Counts.”

“Counts for what?” Liara asked.

“You’ve had that visor forever,” Joker said, ignoring her. “And the blue’s covered.” Here he tapped his cheek. Ashley suddenly coughed and turned away, her shoulders shaking. 

Joker took off his hat and held it out. “Here.”

“Uh, that’s not going to fit me.”

“You don’t have to wear it, just have it on you. It’s for the Normandy. She should be a part of this too, right?” Joker held his breath, waiting to see if Garrus would buy it. He looked skeptical, but when Liara chimed in with her support for the idea, he shrugged and tucked the hat into a pocket.

“Joker,” EDI began, only to be interrupted by Tali announcing the official had arrived. Garrus and Liara followed her from the room, and Ashley finally broke and started laughing.

“That rhyme traditionally applied to women getting married,” EDI said.

Ashley shook her head, still grinning. “Shepard’s not that kind of sentimental. You’re going to tell him after the ceremony, though, right?”

“Hell yes,” Joker said. “Best part? Garrus will never be able to top this.”


	14. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday prompt from servantofclio: "Garrus and Shepard, making breakfast."

“Should I ask what those eggs did to you?” Shepard brushed her fingers over one of Garrus’s mandibles in a good morning gesture. He leaned into the touch, but didn’t stop glaring at the frying pan.

“They burn faster than the eggs I’m used to,” he said. “I was trying to make you an omelet.”

Shepard’s eyes lit up. “I haven’t had one of those in ages. Mom used to make them whenever she was home on leave.” She hadn’t seen her mother in ages either. “What’d you put in it?”

Garrus waved a hand toward a cutting board on the counter. “Cheese, Earth vegetation.”

“Vegetation? Really, Garrus?”

“Name five edible plants on Palaven.”

“Vegetation. Right.” Shepard poked through the bits left on the cutting board. Mushrooms, scallions, and…were those apples? Her mouth started to water.

Garrus carefully lifted the corner of the omelet to check its color. Satisfied, he flipped it and the resulting sizzle made Shepard’s stomach growl. “Anything I can make for you?” she asked. He shook his head.

“I have yesterday’s leftovers. Heat them up while I finish?” 

Shepard complied, and in another few minutes they were both at the table, steaming food in front of them. She dug in, closing her eyes as the familiar blend of flavors hit. It was an uncommon combination, and why she hadn’t ordered an omelet from a restaurant in years. Garrus was smiling at her when she opened her eyes again in dawning realization.

“Okay, Vakarian. How did you know how I like my omelet?”

“You’re not the only one who talks to your mom. Thought I’d help uphold tradition.”

Shepard looked at him blankly.

“Her ship docks in an hour.” He grinned at the sudden joy on her face. “Happy birthday.”


End file.
